to have the matter go
back to this state of doubt and indecision again.

Mrs. von Behrens was on the directorate of a working girls' club that
needed special funds every winter, and this year the money was to be
raised by an immense entertainment, at which generous professional
singers were to be alternated on a brilliant programme with society
girls and men, in tableaux and choruses. Norma, who had a charming if
not particularly strong voice, was early impressed into service, because
she was so good-natured, so dependable, and pretty and young enough to
carry off a delectable costume. The song she sang had been specially
written for the affair, and in the quaint dance that accompanied it she
was drilled by the dance authority of the hour. A chorus of eight girls
and eight men was added to complete the number, and the gaiety of the
rehearsals, and the general excitement and interest, carried the matter
along to the last and dress rehearsal with a most encouraging rush.

Annie had originally selected Chris for Norma's companion in the song,
for Chris had a pleasant, presentable voice, and Chris in costume was
always adequate to any role. Theatricals had been his delight, all his
life long, and among the flattering things that were commonly said of
Chris was that he had robbed the stage of a great character actor.

But Chris had begged off, to take a minor part in another _ensemble_,
and Norma had a youth named Roy Gillespie for her partner. Roy was a
big, fat, blond boy, good-natured and stupid and rather in love with
Norma, and as the girl was entirely unconscious of Annie's original
plan, she was quite satisfied with him.

The dress rehearsal was on a dark Thursday afternoon before the Saturday
of the performance. It took place in the big empty auditorium, where it
was to drag along from twelve o'clock noon, until the preparations for
the regular evening performance drove the amateurs, protesting, away.
Snow was fluttering down over the city when Annie, with Norma, and a
limousine full of properties, reached the place at noon; motor-cars were
wheeling and crowding in the side street, and it seemed to Norma
thrilling to enter so confidently at the big, dirty, sheet-iron door
lettered:

"STAGE DOOR. NO ADMITTANCE."

As always to the outsider, the wings, the shabby dressing-rooms, the
novel feeling of sauntering across the big, dim stage, the gloom of the
great rising arch of the house, were full of charm. Voic